My Nonprofit Reviews

I tugged at the wheels to move my wheelchair with tears streaming down my face. How could I have ended up blind, paralyzed and confused in a wheelchair. At one time, I had my dream job as a radio reporter in Chicago. My friends knew me as Zsa Zsa because I turned into a glamorpuss once I started making real money. And now this. I felt like a burden to my family. I was blind, paralyzed and unable to live on my own.
It all started on March 22, 2004. I slipped out of my office early at WTVN radio in Columbus, Ohio, to walk my dog Bogie. When I arrived at my apartment, I was struck with a massive headache. It was a piercing headache that felt like my ears were going to pop off. I immediately called my mom in Glen Ellyn. I figured if I was going to die, I would call my mom to say goodbye. I told her about the headache, and she told me to get to an emergency room. I have no memory of the rest of the day. I called 911 and told the operator: “I have the biggest headache on the planet. I need help.” I collapsed on my kitchen floor, stricken with a brain aneurysm. When I arrived at the hospital, Dr. Joseph Shehadi at Columbus’ Grant Medical Center described my condition as “at death’s door.” Before my emergency brain surgery, Dr. Shehadi told me quietly to “be brave.” I underwent a six-hour operation, during which a metal clip was placed on the ruptured brain aneurysm to stop the bleeding. Doctors gave me a 3 percent chance to live. I spent several weeks unconscious, recovering from the surgery. My father sat at my bedside every night while I lay there, reading my favorite children’s stories to me. While I was in a coma, I dreamed I was back in Chicago shopping along Michigan Avenue at the Louis Vuitton store.
My co-workers and friends visited me daily, and I was on prayer lists across the country. I woke up three weeks later and learned that Julia Roberts was pregnant with twins, J Lo got married and that I had missed Easter. My recovery was bumpy but everyone knew I was back to my old self when I flipped off a nurse in the hospital. The offensive gesture was a positive sign to my friends and family that I was back to my usual feisty self. After more than a year in physical therapy in Ohio and multiple eye operations, this near death experience forced me to educate myself. I eventually made contact with the Brain Aneurysm Foundation. I realized that its support, educational materials and an awareness campaign for survivors and caregivers would help others recover. I am now 100 percent recovered and am extremely grateful for the extraordinary medical care I received in Columbus and for all of the support from my family, friends and The Brain Aneurysm Foundation.

I am reminded of what former Ohio State University Football Coach Woody Hayes said: “You can never really pay back. You can only pay forward.” I have since moved back to Chicago and began to “pay forward” in Illinois. In April 2009, the Illinois House passed a bill permanently make September Brain Aneurysm Awareness Month in Illinois. The bill was sponsored by State Representative Sandra Pihos. With the partnership of a fellow survivor in Ohio, I was able to help the Ohio General Assembly craft a similar bill. At least half a dozen states are working on awareness legislation. I also have been using my Chicago radio journalism experience and marketing background to promote the dangers of brain aneurysms.
I have been hesitant to step into the spotlight about my brain aneurysm, not knowing if people will look at me differently. However, I am compelled to use my past illness to encourage survivors and caregivers to never give up and to support the Brain Aneurysm Foundation.